


Wide Eyes and Clenched Fists

by Otakiot



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Filbrick Pines' Bad Parenting, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Neglect, No Incest, Teenage Stan Twins, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otakiot/pseuds/Otakiot
Summary: It's 1960-something and the Pine's twins are 17 and ready to take on the world! School, family, weirdness and the pressure to bring pride to the family seems like an impossible task, but the twins find a way to pull through. Nothing can stop Stanley or Stanford Pines! ...Or so they thought.Get a glimpse of life at home with Stanford and Stanley Pines and the rest of the Pines family. Buckle your seatbelts kids, things are about to get dark!!





	Wide Eyes and Clenched Fists

   Tall, crumbling buildings stood at attention beneath the unrelenting power of the storm. Each establishment huddled close together, besting the natural arsenal unleashed upon them for the sake of those inside. Or outside, in one person’s case.

   Broad shoulders slumped, arms shaking, he sat curled in on himself atop a roof as the violent showers rushed over him. Trying desperately to keep what little heat he had within himself. If the rain got any worse he thought it could be considered a proper typhoon, which isn’t uncommon where they were. Another gust slaps past him and shivers rack his body as he fights to remain in place. Each new blast of wind drove him closer and closer to the roof’s edge.

   'Falling off a roof or dying of hypothermia… Great.’ At Least he had a little bit of a choice for once, even if it’s for his own death.

   He had never once regretted his fashion choices quite as much as he did then, freezing his ass off on a roof with nothing but a white short sleeved t-shirt, old worn jeans and one sock(he had not been given enough time to retrieve his shoes before being forced outside.)

   He wanted to talk to his brother. He wanted to grab his father and make him come to his senses. But most of all, he just wanted a hot damn shower.

   “F-Fuck-!” He yelled as a particularly strong gust sent him careening forwards. His jaw slammed painfully against the cement roofing. He cursed again as he rubbed the quickly swelling side of his face before looking for something to hold on to. After a little searching through squinted eyes and a constant wall of rain, he found the tall cylindrical metal vent that released the smoke from his mother’s various burned meals out into the open air from their kitchen. Desperate and fearful, he wrapped himself around the vent and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping, praying, that he’d last the night.

   The sound of fluttering cloth caught his attention. He opened his eyes and with a slight tilt of the head, he found the source of the noise. Down at the front of the store the rubber-like cloth  of the overhang shook and slapped about chaotically. He glared at it loathingly. Once, years ago, the overhang’s words and those on the signs above it were a source of pride for him. He would boast about his family’s store to any who would come near, smiling smugly all the while. He didn’t care if they did. The only person whose opinion truly mattered to him felt the exact same way, his brother.

   But now, as he is fighting to stay atop the store’s roof, he can do nothing but hate the signs below him with “Pines Pawn, Jewelry-Watches-No Refunds” printed in large hand-painted calligraphy nor the joyfully colored neon sign that advertises his mother’s business as the local phone psychic. If anything, he badly longed to tear the signs down himself. ‘And maybe after I could make a fire out of the pieces and warm the hell up!’ He humored the idea, but he knew all too well he would never act on these thoughts. Never act against him.

   “Damn it, he can’t seriously keep me out here all night!” He growled under the roaring of water and wind around him. “It was just a friggin’ bottle..”  
+  
   “STANLEY!” He could hear his father’s yells echo about his thoughts, “THAT BOTTLE WAS WORTH $95!! IT WAS GOING TO A HIGH PAYING CUSTOMER TOMORROW AND NOW IT’S DESTROYED ALL BECAUSE OF ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR STUPID MISTAKES!” A vein in his neck seemed ready to burst out from beneath his skin.

   “Fil-” His mother placed her hand on his red-faced father’s shoulder which he quickly pushed off.

   “Not. Now, woman.” He growled, a terrifying calmness suddenly settling over his words. The creases in his face only deepened as he stared at his son. “How, did this happen?” His voice was as cold as ice. Stanley couldn’t keep his father’s gaze long and chose instead to stare at a painting behind him, letting out an awkward chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck.

   “Ah.. Well..see, I was running in to grab my jacket and I slipped ‘is all… I didn’t mean to-” His improvised words were interrupted by a large hand grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming into a door. He let out a grunt of pain as he looked up at his father, his eyes widening in fear. “I- I- can pay for it, if you want! I can get the money back-” His father stayed silent and still before jerking him forwards and pulling his son roughly along with him while Stanley tried his best not to choke on the collar of his shirt. “Where’re we-?” He asked, gasping and stumbling after his father. The opening of a door and the sudden intake of air signaled his brother’s appearance.

   “Dad? What’s going on?” Stanford asked, worry coloring his tone. His mother, who had finally given up on calming her husband, pushed past him and went to comfort the now crying infant in the other room. “Dad-?”

   “‘Teaching your idiot of a brother a lesson.” He said curtly as he pulled Stanley up a set of stairs. The dim light of the small stairway made it hard to see and the young brunette’s foot missed a step, a dire mistake that left him hanging with all his weight on his neck. His arms flailed about urgently until he found the railing and righted himself. The older man above him merely scoffed and shook his head in disgust as he used a key to unlock a door in front of him. Stanley rubbed his sore neck gingerly as a large part of the tension in the cloth constricting him loosened.

   Stanford huffed out large breaths as he jogged up the old wooden steps after them. The smarter of the two brother’s was also the lesser fit unfortunately and it showed, “You-. You can’t mean to go out there! It’s freezing and it’s just started to rain-!” Filbrick finally looked at his favorite son for the first time as the door behind him swung open.

   “I don’t, he does.” He jerked his captive forwards and shoved Stanley outside into the light rain. Stanley didn't have enough time to even stand before the door is slammed shut and locked tightly. The last thing he saw was Stanford’s horrified face and his father’s apathetic one.  
+  
   His head somehow manages to swim and hurt at the same time as exhaustion threatened to make him lose his grip. He let out a shuddering sigh, flinching when the movement made the aching throb that was his jaw into a fiery  inferno of pain, specs of white blotching out parts of his vision, and repositioned his right hand's grip on the other's wrist. 

   'How much longer am I going to be out here?' He grumbled mentally before a morbid thought took its place. 'How much longer can I last up here?' He wished he knew. Stanley wasn't even sure how long he'd been out already. And there was no way to tell, the clouds hid the moon and he was never one for watches. To him though, it felt like years. 

   Being cold is a strange, Stanley decided. Not getting out of a pool cold, but really cold. The kind that wakes you up, that makes every tiny cell in your body feel like it's flaming shards of glass and leaves you shivering so hard you worry about your teeth because your body is trying so desperately to warm itself. The kind that also makes you so tired you can barely keep your eyes open no matter how hard you fight, that numbs your limbs in a way that urges you to move and rub them to regain some sort of feeling, and makes your thoughts focus on nothing but it. True cold.

   He feels this cold now as the icy rain pours down. He doesn't know how cold it is, he doesn't care. He just wants out of it.  
     
   Stanley nearly crows with joy despite his jaw when the rain settles and stops. Cold wind whips past but he doesn't care, he falls flat on his back in the inch or so of water that's collected and is content.

   That is, until he hears a single but distinct "Tink!" Of something hard on metal. His slowed heart begins to flutter back to life as he hears another and anoth- A sizeable hail piece hits him in the forehead. He stares up at the dark, cloudy night sky in horror as more come down. The hail comes down harder and he can feel the cherry-sized ice balls begin to leave bruises. He does the first thing he can think of, he whips off his shirt and creates a makeshift umbrella by laying on his back and using a few of his limbs to hold the white cloth aloft. Successfully deflecting the barrage of ice. 

   "Hah! Look whose clever now, Pops!" He yells and does his best to ignore the excruciating pain.  
~  
   "----!" He hears someone saying something and slowly opens his eyes. The clouds above him are familiar now, as is the light rain coating him. He shivers violently as the cold catches up with him. "---ley!" He slowly sits up in the rain and puts on his shirt that was lying on his stomach. 'Things are getting loud downstairs.' He noted, before he saw the slight orange tinge at the edge of a distant cloud that meant that somewhere past the rain and the dense cloud cover, the sun was rising. He had made it. He let relief flood over him, ignoring the aches of his body and the sting of the freezing rain.

   Stanley was sitting with his knees tucked into his chest and arms hugging them closely when something tapped lightly on his shoulder. He jumped and lurched away from the foreign thing and spun in his crouched position to face it. It was Stanford.   
   
   "What're you doing out here? ..WAIT, DID THAT BASTAR-?!" His twin shook his head quickly from beneath his rain coat. His glasses were fogging up from the cold but Stanley could still see the startled and worried look in his eyes. Or he thought he could, the rain made it difficult to see anything. His body shook again despite his willing it not to.  
     
   "Come on, Stanley. Let's go inside." He noticed his brother's guarded expression and quickly clarified. "Dad's out and he said it was fine." Stanford held out a six-fingered hand.  
   
   'Did he really say that? Is it really fine to go back inside or is he just being nice and ultimately getting us both in a worse situation?' He couldn't tell for sure but when he heard the familiar tink of the newest round of hail, things were decided for him. He grabbed his brother's hand and tried to stand.   
   
  His shakey legs gave way and he grabbed for his brother who managed to keep him on his feet. With a second attempt, blood now flowing a little easier through the numbed jean-clad limbs, he was able to wobble alongside his brother and back inside.  
    
   Stanford helped him to their room and grabbed a towel and some new clothes for Stanley and left him to get changed. It took him longer than he liked to finish, every part of him was still stiff but slowly relaxing the tiniest bit as the clothes began to warm him. He yelled to Stanford and then settled in his bed, wrapping himself in all of his two blankets.   
   
  When he returned to their bedroom, Stanford seemed both guilt-ridden and amused by the "tougher" twin's quilt-coiled form with nothing but his face peeking out of the blankets. Stanley noticed this and tried to lighten the mood. " 'Feel like a damned burrito.. It's awesome!" He grinned lopsidedly at his brother. It was only then the glasses-clad brunette notice the bad bruising and swelling along Stanley's jaw.  
     
   "What happened to your face?" He asked while he snatched the blankets off his bed and wrapped his brother deeper into his cacoon.  
    
   "Slipped and hey-! Don't give me yours! You need blankets too, I'm fine without your nasty blankets ,jerk." The newest additions were greatly appreciated but he could never leave his brother with nothing. He'd rather stay cold.  
    
   "I don't need them, you do. I have my sweater and I don't plan on sleeping any time soon." Stanley stared at his brother with a sigh, 'Oh god he has that look he only gets when reading or doing other sci-fi nerd crap..' Stanford dragged a chair before the bed and sat in front of his brother, his face uncomfortably close in the injured twin's opinion. He let him know by blowing in the other boy's face. "Your breath stinks. Brush your teeth." He cringed dramatically before continuing his inspection. Stanford brushed away the blanket on Stanley's cheek and shoved his brother's rebelling face to the side. "It's not broken, luckily. I think its just fractured a bit. How does it feel?" He used two fingers to lightly prod along his jaw.  
   
  "Peachy." He muttered. "Ah-! Don't poke so hard!" One hand appeared from beneath the wrapping and cradled his jaw. Stanford dropped his own hand and gaze. Guilt flooding over him.  
    
   "Why-?" He pushed up his glasses, awkward now. "Why did you do it? Tell him it was you." Stanley's eyes opened and stared at him suddenly serious.  
    
   "Because you don't need that crap right now. You just made one stupid mistake, you shouldn't lose Dad's respect because of some stupid bottle. And anyways, I'm used to it. Being the useless one." He shrugged nonchalantly as he tucked himself back inside his burrito. "Better me out in the rain than you." Stanford couldn't help but shudder as he imagined himself being punished instead of his brother for the accident that was his own. It was a horrible thought. Stanley closed his eyes again and stuffed himself further inside the blankets, sleep was quickly taking over and he was happy to let it.  
    
   As he was drifting off he felt a new pressure on either side of him and a new heat source warming him. He cracked his tired eyes to find Stanford's head beside his as his nerdy brother hugged him. "Thank you..." He whispered quietly.  
    
  Stanley smiled. "Anytime ,Sixer." And fell into a deep, restful sleep like he had not had in a long time.


End file.
